Alien Tongues

by M. L. Janes

  "I understand the translation is going better than expected, but it's still in progress. Can you talk to that?" the other civil servant asked.

  The professor nodded. "Right now, the girls are doing an amazing job, creating a creole faster than I thought possible. The software is constantly doing predictive modeling from their progress, forming generalized rules and endlessly cross-checking with the Consortium file. At some point we expect the software to say, in effect 'I got what I need' and surge ahead, finalizing its creole models and finding a translation with a level of probability that meets our threshold. There may be more than one translation, who knows. Literally, that event could happen any time now, though I would guess it's not so likely just at this moment. The likelihood increases every day."

  "More than one translation?" the woman asked.

  "No translation will be exact. It will have what we call a 'goodness of fit.' If we assume errors have a Gaussian distribution, we can attach a probability to it. We're aiming for one translation that has at least an 80% chance of being correct, on that assumption. But we could get two translations which each have a 40% probability."

  "Why choose 80?"

  Wilkie laughed. "It's the average of what each individual committee member asked for. Such is scientific consensus."

  After the meeting, Séamus asked Alice if she would have a walk with him. They took one of the routes to the nearby stream he would commonly use with the girls. Now the weather was warmer, Tina and Phyllis had also gone there regularly with him. They walked in near silence until they reached a bench where he had sat many times. It was a wonderful view at any time of year, but now the spring growth, flowering and blossom made it the prettiest.

  Alice was first to speak. "Disappointed that it's little green men?" she asked.

  "I'm trying to decide that," he said, watching the stream sparkle. "In theory, it's probably the most important outcome that was possible. On the other hand, I doubt if there's anything in that file which is actionable for Séamus FitzGerald. I think the ongoing role my boss had in mind was perpetual minder for the girls. It sounds like their talents are going to be in demand for years to come. I mean, this probability-of-translation thing? I can see arguments over what the data means for decades. One groups says this part is a cure for cancer, the other group says it's a death ray that wipes out a planet. One very good result is that we're going to be keeping them safe from harm for a very long time."

  "How does it feel to be perpetual minder?"

  He turned to look at her and gave a sheepish grin. "Actually, some of me loves it. In some ways it's heaven. I just haven't convinced myself that I can continue respecting myself in such a job."

  Alice pushed his shoulder. "Then maybe you should work on your boyish value system. Everyone else thinks you're doing a fabulous job. I think there's just this kid inside Séamus FitzGerald who hates to use his soft talents instead of his bad-ass thumping to get a result."

  "Hah! Maybe." Séamus stood up and tossed a pebble at the stream. It always surprised him how far he could throw, as it always had his fellow cricketers. "But give me credit for having already grown up a lot since I've been here."

  The voice behind him asked, "How do you feel about Barbara now?"

  "Damn!" he shouted at the stream, realizing her choice of words was deliberate, then said, "So you know about us sleeping together?"

  Alice stood next to him, throwing a pebble with twice the effort and sending it about one-tenth of the distance. "Of course, Séamus, I'm not stupid. But my point was not about the sex. It was about your obvious obsession with her."

  He returned to the bench. "Yes, it was bad, wasn't it? But it's getting better. I'm still hoping to see her when she comes tomorrow but I suspect she won't have time for me. I know I was some kind of conquest for her, and she knows she can have me when she wants me, which is probably not very often. I doubt if I'll ever be able to refuse her, even if I were to get married. Yet I'm sane enough to know we're hopelessly unsuited, quite apart from the age gap. It struck me like a hammer this morning when Wilkie talked about the G8+5 and the UN. That's exactly up her street. It will launch her into global security circles. I will always be a guy who protects people. A minder, a bodyguard. And, very occasionally, a killer and a torturer." He looked up to see the shock on Alice's face from these last words.

  "Did you do that already?" she asked him.

  "Does that make any difference?" he replied, "If I've already said I am prepared to do it?" He stood up, folded his arms, then kicked at a loose lump of wood. He took a deep breath, as if trying to control his emotions, staring at the stream.

  "Séamus, do I actually know what kind of man you are?"

  "Means what?"

  "It means, you and I have been fairly intimate these past months. You're a very special person to me. But now I wonder, what are you capable of doing to another human being? I'm sorry, but it makes a difference to me when I'm sleeping in someone's arms."

  There was a long pause as Séamus kept his gaze fixed on the shiny stream. "If you didn't campaign with all your personal energy against the last war," he said, finally, "Then in my mind you are an active consenter to killing and torture, practiced where there need be only probable cause to justify it. If you don't bother to think about such things in a democracy, you are just as guilty through omission as commission."

  He turned towards Alice, a little calmer now. "They tell us at the Agency, once a war is started you can never control what happens. No one said it better than Shakespeare. 'Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war.' Once you agree to war, you are signing up for murder and torture on a grand scale, and a lot of innocent people find themselves on the receiving end. That's why we've now learned, hopefully, to avoid war at all costs. The agony of suspected terrorists is bad enough, but it still beats thousands of kids with their limbs blown off in countries lacking even painkillers."

  Séamus sat down again. "That's how I see it, anyway. Maybe that makes me a psychopath, I'm not sure. I just don't see any difference between the guy who does it and the rest who don't use their freedom of speech to speak out against it being done. If you think war is for the greater good, then you must accept its hell as being for the greater good. There is no such thing as a surgical war." He shook his head and smiled ruefully. "Chrissy told me she read about the Chinese army being pursued by the Japanese during WWII. To cut off the Japanese advance, the Chinese general ordered the flooding of the land between them. Hundreds of thousands of Chinese farmers and their families died of drowning and famine. We're shocked when we read this. Yet almost every general in every war on every side has either done something similar, or was replaced because he couldn't bring himself to."

  He took two deep breaths. "Oh, I forgot to mention rape, didn't I? The vast quantity of sexual coercion that's unleashed by any war. Put a gun in a man's hand, have him watch his buddy's legs get blown off, then assume he won't help himself to nooky at the next opportunity? We look at the horrors of Nanking and ask, were these soldiers human? But the unspoken horror is that, if that war had never happened, the same men would have been devoted fathers, commuting themselves to death. By accepting war as an instrument of global justice, we are accepting all the side-effects that come with the medicine. That's why I see my job, no matter how nasty it may get at the one-on-one level, as preventing the next war. Or more accurately, preventing voters who don't understand war from voting for it."

  They both fell silent for a while. Séamus added, "That's why I'm not really a suitable life-partner for Sheryl or for you, the girls or Barbara. You are all mentally very gifted women, and it won't be difficult for you to find a thousand reasons why I am a bad man, a stupid man, a boring man. I know that, because that's how I often see myself. But I know what I'm good at doing, and I know why I do it. When I took this job, I must have known it would kill my relationship with Sheryl, but it didn't stop me for a moment. For a little while, when I actually saw her leaving me, I fantasized about being the husban
d she wanted. But what did it take for me to abandon my promise to her to reform? Three letters on a keypad."

  A cooler wind picked up. Alice shivered and folded her arms tightly. He wondered if he should put an arm round her, but decided it would be too presumptive at that moment.

  "I know I will get over Barbara," he continued, "Because I will convince myself the relationship is extremely wrong. I can even keep working here because you all tell me I am useful to you, and I need to be useful. You're kind enough to tell me I have some special gift which helps all of you, and that's obviously a good thing which I should always bear in mind. But please understand that I'm a fairly simple and unimaginative man. I just want to be a good agent. I reckon that, if I'm a good agent at the right time in the right place, I may be able to save someone's life, or find some vital truth, that can prevent armed conflict. I've been trying to find something deeper in my soul than that, but so far I've come up a blank."

  Alice rubbed his shoulder gently. "Does being a good agent still include taking care of me and the girls?"

  "Alice, as long as any of you are exposed to the consequences of this project, that is my sworn duty."

  "One more question. How badly did you ever torture anyone?"

  "I can give you one assurance. I have never, and will never, inflict any pain on anyone that I have not experienced to breaking point myself. Just don't let word get around about that."

  "OK." Alice embraced him. "I think I still want to get into your bed at night, if it's still alright with you."

  It turned out that Barbara planned no time alone with Séamus during her visit. However, she did take a break between meetings to come to his room for a short while. He was surprised to see her when he opened the door in response to her knock. He made tea for them and they sat in his kitchen.

  "I'm sorry I haven't said anything since the other night," she told him. "I know you deserve better. I hope you don't regret it?"

  "Certainly not," he replied firmly, "Except that you've ruined me for other women now. I'll always expect too much."

  She gave him a beautiful smile and rubbed his hand. "I know. We were both animals. I never knew I had it in me. I can replay it whenever I want in my mind and I feel like a real woman again. I can't thank you enough, Séamus."

  "You're always welcome."

  Her hand caressed his cheek. "Such a handsome young man. I know it's a bit unfair. To be honest, I don't know when I will feel that need again. I quite understand it if you tell me not to play you like this. Otherwise, who knows. I may call you three months from now, maybe nine months. I can tell you, when we had the meeting earlier today and I saw you sitting there, I got such a charge out of it. You may find me inviting you to a lot more meetings, even if they are not terribly relevant to you. People will talk, but let them. They always need some gossip."

  Séamus smiled, hoping it did not look sad. "You're the boss."

  They chatted a while longer, then his boss left. In parting, she gave him a lingering kiss on the lips. Despite telling himself not to, he could not resist putting his hand inside her blouse and bra, caressing her nipple. She showed no resistance at all, but pulled back from the kiss and grinned at him. He knew he was only making it worse for himself and let her go.

  He suffered from the encounter for a couple of days. He knew the girls noticed his depression but they said nothing. Then it was Tina's turn to shock him. One evening she asked if he ever painted or sketched. "Sometimes," he told her. She asked if he had any examples in his room and, when he told her yes, asked to see them.

  "I like them," she said simply, looking at sketches from pictures he had found on the Internet, mainly of faces and figures. "I want you to draw me. In the nude."

  "Why would you want that?" he asked, excited by the idea but suspicious.

  "Several reasons," she said, slowly removing her clothes. "I know you can't love me, Séamus – at least, not in the way I want. But I know you desire me. I see it in your eyes often. I'm really grateful that you're such a gentleman and let me tease you. Maybe this is just another big tease. Maybe it's a reward for your patience and protection. Maybe I feel really hot knowing your eyes are on me. Maybe I want a portrait before my body gets old. Maybe I'm too competitive with Chrissy. Maybe desire is a cheap substitute for love."

  She stood naked in front of him, her legs astride, her arms folded. She then turned slowly, balancing her body in various poses. "How would you like me, Séamus?"

  "Sit on the stool," he told her. He ended up making a collection of ten drawings of her. When he finished she sat next to him, still naked, studying them. The temptation to touch her became unbearable.

  "You want to touch me, don't you, Séamus?" she finally said.

  "To be honest, yes."

  "OK. You can kiss a nipple, but very lightly. Lips closed, please."

  He did so. She held him in the same position for a while, running her hands through his hair.

  "Séamus," she said very quietly. "You should really try to love me. Then I could be all over you like a tsunami. Then you wouldn't want that Barbara anymore."

  "You know about my boss?" he asked incredulously.

  "Of course. It's natural, we understand it, but you know it goes nowhere. I could be the most amazing woman for you." She sighed, but smiled warmly. "But I won't be, will I?" She stood up and slowly dressed again. "Dear, thank you so much for these pictures. I will treasure them. You can now see me back to my room. I really can sleep well now"

  The next morning, as had happened a number of times at the facility, Séamus found a surprising change in his mood. Had Tina worked some magic trick? Thinking through the event, it seemed hard to imagine that it had helped him. What were the ingredients? Her need for love where she took desire as a substitute, an hour of erotic intensity, a moment that combined carnality with a sort of teenage innocence; then finally a departure on warm, gracious terms. Maybe someday he would be ready to love Tina or a girl like her, and that was something to surely look forward to. Until that time it felt like Life as Art, perhaps brought to mind by his sketches. It was a similar boost that he got from his native literature. A shot of passion, a quick blast of being among the living.

  To his pleasant surprise, the mood change survived the next few weeks. The routine with Alice and the girls continued as before with an increasing sense of contentment. Spring among the Dales was superb. He now took them each for drives to other areas nearby where they could experience a greater variety of countryside. He took Chrissy to see some local racehorses, played cricket with Jenny and football with Tina on the lawn. He continued to spar with Phyllis in the gym at various martial arts. He continued to watch TV with each of them, and they began talking to him about life after the project finished. As it had obviously come up as a topic in the lab, each of them asked him if there would be a chance of them all traveling round Europe together. Séamus realized he was looking forward to that chance. Alice continued to praise the results from the lab. She understood that the actual translation process was going well but that it was likely to be a long haul, quite independently from what the girls were creating.

  "In another few weeks I think we'll have done all we can here," Alice told him one evening. "The number creole is providing us with everything we can usefully digest at the moment. I really think there is little advantage in keeping the girls separated after that. They should be allowed to go on a nice long vacation together. If they need to come back and work on more material, their time together isn't going to have any impact. They are already so fluent in the number creole that they know everything about each other that they want to know and share."

  "Tell me when I can arrange a big party here for them all to meet each other like normal human beings," he told her. "I think that is going to be a magic moment for us all."

  But the party never happened. The language project fell apart in the worst way he could possibly have feared.

  11. Séamus's Choice

  It happened without any wa
rning, one evening when he and Alice were talking over drinks in his room and thinking about getting ready for bed. The security guard asked them both to come down to the lobby as there were visitors whose documents he needed verified. Séamus could not imagine who it might be, and told Alice she should stay in the room.

  "Don't be silly," she told him. "I forgot to tell you. Two of our scientists said they were coming some time tonight. There is some equipment here that they need to use. Probably their passes don't work here and that means the guard has to go through some lengthy procedure. He's being lazy and asking for us to sign them in."

  Séamus did not feel fully convinced but was not in a position to dissuade Alice. They walked down to the lobby to find four young men in black suits. Séamus felt his heart leap.

  "Hi, Séamus," said one of the men. "Sorry to interrupt your date tonight."

  "What are you doing here, Thomas?" Séamus also knew one of the other men.

  "You two have to come with us," Thomas told them. The other three men were quickly moving in such a way as to make any escape more difficult. Séamus knew it was not wise to try, at least at that moment.

  "What is this, Séamus?" Alice asked.

  "They're agents," Séamus said, "And they're taking us into custody."

  "Custody? But what about their girls?"

  "Don't worry, we'll take care of them for now," Thomas said. "It's all official and above board. Isn't that right, Séamus?"

  "If you say so. Where are you taking us?"